CHASE UND SCOTT

"EARTH TO THOMAS." Scott snapped his fingers from where he stood breaking me out of the spell his body had put on me.

"I'm sorry, I—um—the door was open—I should've knocked," I stammered, messing up my words.

"You're late, Thomas," he said flatly, totally uninterested in random babbling.

He turned his back to me. He reached behind his shoulder to apply the cream onto a massive, purple bruise. He let out a sharp hiss through his teeth, wincing because he missed the spot completely. Frustrated, he tossed the plastic on the desk and grabbed a shirt laying on the chair.

"Don't put that on yet," I said before I could even stop myself.

Scott paused, holding the shirt halfway down his chest. He raised an eyebrow, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You can't even reach it," I pointed out, trying hard to look at his face instead of his torso. "If you don't apply the cream, your muscle will lock up during tomorrow's game. As your manager, I need you ready to play."

I stepped forward, reaching for the jar on the desk to help him.

"Don't touch me," Scott snapped, his voice dropping low as he stepped backwards creating space between us.

He grabbed the jar before my fingers could get to it. With that same cold look in his eyes, he said "I don't need your pity, and I definitely don't want your hands on me, Thomas."

The rejection hurt I stood frozen for a second before hiding my hurt with a cold glare. "Fine. Waste your talent sitting on the bench tomorrow. See if I care."

Scott pulled the grey t-shirt over his head in one quick, angry motion.

Before he could tell me to sit down, his phone started buzzing loudly, cutting through the quiet room. Scott frowned and pulled the phone from his pocket. He looked at the caller ID, and his jaw tightened. He didn't answer it normally. Instead, he swiped the screen and shoved the phone directly into my hand.

"The coach," Scott muttered, sounding annoyed. "He wants to know if you're here."

Before I could even hold the phone properly, Scott turned around. "I'm getting a drink," he murmured, walking straight out of the room and leaving me alone in the dim light.

I brought the phone to my ear. "Hello, Coach?"

"Chase? Good, you're there," Coach’s loud voice came through the speaker. "I wanted to check in. I know things have been tense since this morning. Are you actually at the house?"

"Yes, Coach. I'm in his room right now," I said, looking at the empty doorway. "We're just about to start."

"Good. How are things going so far?" Coach asked. "Is Lawrence being tolerable?"

I stared at the spot where Scott had just snapped at me. "Oh, yes. He's being perfectly tolerable. He's also very hospitable."

"Glad to hear it," Coach said, sounding relieved. "Make sure he actually studies, Chase. We need his grades up for the midterm. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Coach."

Then the line went dead. I lowered the phone almost immediately, Scott walked back inside, holding a cold bottle of water.

His dark eyes immediately scanned my face, trying to guess what I had told the coach. I didn't say a word. I just laid his phone face-down on the desk.

"Sit down," Scott ordered, pointing to the wooden chair across from him. "Let's get this over with."

I took my seat, pulling my heavy bag into my lap. I dragged my heavy textbook across the desk. I flipped open my laptop. "We have to cover the first two chapters tonight if you want to keep your scholarship and stay on the team."

For the next two hours, the room felt incredibly tense. Scott didn't say a single word to me that wasn't about the schoolwork. He didn't ask personal questions, he didn't complain about the reading, and he didn't look at me once.

He showed a terrifying, robotic focus, taking notes, nodding when I said soemthinga Nd shaking his head if he didn't get me or understand me. He treated me like a machine, completely ignoring me as a person.

The stillness of the small room was agonizing. Every time I reached over to point at a chart on his laptop, our fingers would briefly brush, sending a weird feeling up my arms.

Scott froze for a moment before readjusting himself, his eyes darkening, before going right back to his notes as if nothing had happened.

By nine o'clock, the room had grown dark. I closed my textbook with a heavy thud. "Alright. We've covered everything for the test. That's enough for tonight."

Scott laid his pen down, placing his hands flat on the desk. His cold mask completely cracked, leaving him looking raw and exhausted.

He stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets and pulling out some keys. "Come on. It's pitch black outside. I'm driving you home."

I looked at him and I didn't even know when I laughed. The memory of this morning's humiliation rushed back into my chest.

"No," I replied to him. Who does he think he is?

Scott paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What?"

"I said no," I repeated, standing up and throwing the heavy bag over my shoulder. I stared at him, my jaw tight. "Let's review today, shall we? This morning, you publicly embarrassed me by dumping a freezing iced coffee directly over my head in front of your entire team. You treated me like garbage. And now, all of a sudden, you want to act like a gentleman and drive me home? No thank you, Captain. I’ll find my own way home."

Scott didn't flinch. He didn't apologize or defend himself either. He just stared at me with an unreadable expression.

Then, without a word, he climbed onto his bed, leaned back against a pillow, and pulled out his phone. He began scrolling, completely tuning me out as if I didn't exist.

God, I hate him so much, I marched out into the hallway and called Bree. It rang three times before she picked up over the thumping music of a party.

"Chase! Hey!" Bree yelled over the noise. "Are you done with the ice king?"

"Yeah. Are you anywhere near campus? Can you pick me up? The shuttles stopped running twenty minutes ago."

"Oh, God, Chase, I'm so sorry," Bree groaned, feeling genuinely bad. "Candy and the guys dragged us to an off-campus party across town. I'm at least forty-five minutes away. Can you call an Uber?"

I opened my rideshare app. 'No drivers available.' Of course there wouldn't be one. It's a Friday night.

"It's fine," I lied smoothly, making sure she didn't uproot herself to come get me. "Enjoy the party. I'll figure it out."

I hung up and stood in the dark hallway for a long, embarrassing minute, staring at the warm light coming from Scott's room. Taking a deep breath, I forced my feet to move back inside.

Scott hadn't moved an inch. He was still relaxed on his bed, his thumb scrolling idly on the screen.

I stopped a few feet from the bed, my knuckles turning white around my backpack strap. "Scott." I called him.

His eyes didn't leave his screen. "Thought you were leaving, Thomas."

I swallowed my pride, the taste bitter in my mouth. I hated how much power he had in this exact moment, and I hated the quiet victory he was having.

"If the offer is still open..." I forced the words out of my tight throat, "you can drive me back home."

Scott let the silence hang for three agonizing seconds. Then, slowly, he lowered his phone. A faint, dangerous smirk played at the corner of his lips. He slid off the bed, his tall frame towering over me once more, and tossed the car keys lightly in his hand.

"Let's go, Thomas."